


ripples in time.

by eoghainy



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Gen, what if universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoghainy/pseuds/eoghainy
Summary: an accident, and some hateful words is all it takes to change everything.





	ripples in time.

**Author's Note:**

> hi !!
> 
> so this is gonna be something i just kinda ??? experiment with ??? 
> 
> i'm not too used to writing as trunks or goten, so this is going to be a learning experience for me. 
> 
> but the whole basis of it is, trunks & goten somehow find themselves in the future & hey look, it's a "what if raditz lived and raised gohan to be a real saiyan" thing that kinda just got out of control ?? 
> 
> this is un'beta'd, and there are several parts that are ooc, but, hopefully as it goes along, it'll get better !!
> 
> enjoy dudes !!

“Trunks!” His mother called, her voice rousing him from his deep, uneasy sleep. “Goten is here, so get your ass outta your big bed and come downstairs and greet him!” 

Groaning, the half – breed Saiyan dragged himself away from his comfortable bed, his body feeling lethargic and his eyes crusty from sleep. After fiercely rubbing them, he collected his sweatshirt, which had been haphazardly tossed onto the floor when he went to bed the night before. He didn’t bother combing his hair, just slid the sweatshirt on, stretched, and trotted through the giant Capsule Corp. building to make his way downstairs so he could greet his friend.

The curved, towering walls of steel were familiar as he moved, the cool air of the building waking him up. Through the sparse windows in the residential quarter, he could tell that the sun was already up and shining. His grandparents would have been up for hours, tucked into their atrium and tending to their plants and countless animals. Sometimes, on days like these, when he felt a foul mood incoming and didn’t wish to be bothered, he’d join them in their work and spend the day in their comfortable silence. They know he’d talk when he was ready, and never pushed him.

Trunks met Bra on the stairs, whom was sitting on the topmost step with her legs crossed and her lower lip tugged down into a pout. Her hair was done up in its trademark ponytail, with the yellow beads nesting snugly at the base of her skull. Though she looked cute, her expression told him otherwise. “Don’t even get _near_ me,” she snapped when he went to offer her some form of comfort, in an attempt to banish her bad mood so that she didn’t make his even worse. “I don’t want to look at your stupid face!” 

_Okay, fine then, Vegeta._ Trunks thought with an annoyed snort, stalking away from his little sister. She may look just like their mother, but she had Vegeta’s personality and attitude. He had loved the idea of having a sibling at first, wanting to be as close to a younger sister or brother like Gohan was close to Goten, but instead he had gotten _Bra_. She was selfish, rude, and acted like she was entitled to everything, just like their stupid father. Everything she did had to be on her terms, or nothing.

“ _Trunks_! What did I say about staying up at late at night, especially when you have a friend coming over in the morning!” Bulma hollered, her voice vibrating with anger. Trunks could feel her ki wavering with agitation as she fought to get a hold over herself. “Get down here before Goten decides to leave!”

“I’m _coming_!” Trunks yelled back, jumping off of the middlemost stair and landing on the floor with a soft _tap_. The tiles were cold against his bare feet as he wiggled his stinging toes. Heading into the large dining room, and then into the kitchen, he saw his mother leaning against the counter. Her hair was thrown up into a bun, and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles. She was clutching a coffee cup in her hand, and a pen and notebook in the other. Goten sat patiently next to her, with his hands neatly folded in front of him. He was uncharacteristically quiet.

“You’re here early,” Trunks muttered to his friend, ignoring the exasperated look that his mother threw at him.

“Uh huh!” Goten chimed. “Daddy ‘n ma get up early, so, I have to as well!” He sounded like a hick when he didn’t spend a lot of time around normal talking people. “They like me t’ help out with the chores.” He swung his legs back and forth on the stool, grinning at Trunks. “Don’t you get up early? Momma told me that _all_ little boys get up early!” 

“Only on schooldays, those are the only days I bother.” Trunks wanted to tell Goten to drop the accent, but the other half – breed would gradually lose it like he always did, around midday.

“Well, I should’a have come when you had to go to school, then we’d have more time to play together!” 

“Then I wouldn’t get to hang out with you, dummy. _I_ have to go to school. I don’t get to learn at home.” Trunks retorted, watching as the information sank in. Goten pouted for a moment, but then hopped off the stool he was sitting on.

“Thank you for givin’ me company, Bulma!” Goten bowed neatly to the woman, bouncing with excitement as he got closer to Trunks. Bulma just looked at him fondly. “So, what did you wanna do today?”

“Let’s play some of the new video games I got,” Trunks offered. He didn’t really have a set idea for what he wanted to do, he was just making everything up as he went along. He was absolutely _exhausted_.

“Your room better be clean very well for guests, young man,” Bulma warned, and Trunks waved her off.

“It’s clean enough. Come on, but ignore Bra on the stairs. She’s being a brat again.” He said as he reached the bottom step, flashing Goten a smirk.

“ _Brat yourself_!” Bra yelled, clambering off the step and shot off in the direction of her room. Her feet pattered on the steel floor, and then her door slammed shut, showing that she was where she was supposed to be. Shut up in her room, by herself, and not a bother to Trunks and Goten. _Just_ the way he liked it. If only she would be this easy all the time!

Goten followed Trunks quietly up the stairs, still unusually silent. “You feelin’ okay, Goten?” Trunks asked, not liking how Goten wasn’t filling the silence up with his relentless chatter.

“I guess, just got a bad feeling, that’s all.” Goten answered, his voice soft.

Trunks _really_ didn’t like that. “About what?”

“Dunno. Just feel like something is gonna go wrong.” The young half – breed shrugged, his expression somber. “Do you feel it, Trunks?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t wanna feel it, either. Why would I wanna be weighed down by anxiety, anyway?” He muttered, though he was lying. He felt _something_ ; a trickle of ice running down his spine, a chill that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, a feeling that caused for his muscles to be tense and prepared for an attack. There was something in the air that reminded him that though there was peace now, it would not last.

“Ooooooooh, Trunks, what’s in that room?” Goten’s curious voice stopped Trunks in his tracks. Had they passed his room already? Seems they had. Goten hadn’t even bothered stopping him. Trunks had been so wound up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that they had been going farther than he intended. Frowning, Trunks stared at the door in question, trying to place just what was inside of the room. Most of the doors in this place looked the same.

Finally, it hit him. “Oh, that’s my mom’s lab.” She had one separate from Capsule Corp. so she could work on her own projects on her own time, rather than on the company’s time. Though she worked alongside her personal team during the day, at night, she worked by herself in this lab. “She doesn’t let me or Bra go in there, I dunno why. There’s nothing special in there.” His frown only deepened. “She even keeps that door locked. But . . .” Trunks’ frown suddenly switched into a smirk. “A little bit of energy _should_ be able to pop that lock, shouldn’t it?”

“Trunks, I don’t think we should go in there,” Goten protested, but Trunks ignored him. He strode up to the lock, index finger outstretched, letting it rest upon the keyhole. A little bolt of energy hit the lock, forcing it to turn, resulting in a _click_. He hovered with his hand gently resting on the doorknob, flashing Goten a smug grin. 

“I got it open,” he proclaimed. Goten just stared at him with worry. “What, are you scared?” Trunks taunted, wanting to get a reaction out of the younger boy. “It’s _just_ a room! There’s nothing bad in there.”

Goten shook his head. “I dunno why I feel bad, but I do.”

“Well, I’m going in. You can follow, or you can stay behind if you’re too much of a _baby_ still.” Trunks said as he opened the door, shying away from the sudden white, bright light that blinded him. _Mom left all the lights on again_ , he thought to himself as he walked in, satisfaction filling him when Goten followed. 

When his eyes finally adjusted, Trunks looked around the room, surprised at how large it was. Bulma had equipment set up here and there, and every surface was covered with her ramblings; notebooks, random pieces of paper with formulas on it, even blueprints. Curiously, Trunks approached the nearest one, picking up a spiral notebook and thumbing through the pages. His mother’s messy writing filled each and every page. It was so messy that he could hardly distinguish one word from another.

Closing the notebook, Trunks set it down, instead choosing to examine a blueprint. He could just barely understand the formula she was using and barely understand just what she was trying to build, but, it didn’t make too much sense in his mind. _One day, one day I’ll be able to read these and know exactly what it’s talking about_. He told himself, knowing that he _was_ going to follow after his mother. Capsule Corp. was his legacy; not being the prince of an almost extinct race. His father would have to learn to accept that sooner or later, because Trunks _wasn’t_ going to take after him. _Ever_. Let Bra have that honor.

Running his hands over his mother’s unfinished works, Trunks avoided some of the discarded cups of coffee and the plates left to be cleaned out at a later date. His mother was always in one of her labs, never coming out of it unless she had to. Today was one of the rare days that she hung around the rest of their house, choosing to socialize with her parents and her kids, even Vegeta, if he could be bothered to drag himself out of the gravity chamber.

“Trunks, look at this!” Goten called from across the room. His little voice carried easily, echoing off of the walls. His friend was on the other side of the room, peering at something that was hidden underneath a large bedsheet. His hand was lingering on one of the stilts holding it up, examining it with such interest that it almost startled Trunks.  “What is it?”

“Well, let’s find out.” Trunks replied as he made his way over. He and Goten gripped the bottom of the sheet, both tugging on it at the same time and pulling it off of his mother’s machine. For a split moment, the sheet wavered in the air and continued to hide the machine from their sight, but it fell to the ground with only a rustle to show for it. What was hiding beneath the sheet was, essentially, an egg on stilts. _Literally_.

Trunks and Goten stared at it, dumbfounded. It was large enough to house two people, and the dashboard was covered in colorful buttons and levers. _Haven’t I seen something like this before_? Trunks wondered, racking his brain. He was trying to think of what blueprint he could have picked up, or what notebook, that would have held this machines design in it. He had absolutely no clue. When he looked at it, though, he felt a sense of peace grow within him. Gentle, sweet, familiar peace. He could only imagine what the machine could actually _do_ to provide him with that type of feeling.

As Goten circled around it, Trunks found a table nearby that had parts, tools, and papers all over it. He examined the few ones that he could understand, able to make out that it was a brand – new design that Bulma had created herself. It was a practical design for two people to get in, and be able to share the space comfortably. There was a compartment for food, and even an area to lay down, underneath somewhere. It had the ability to fly, but it wasn’t like any one of the vehicles that Capsule Corp. had ever created before.

Shuffling through more of the papers, trying to make sense of what it was, Trunks’ fingers brushed against a notebook. Hidden underneath a mound of parts, he gently pulled it out without disturbing the pile, and flipped open to the first page. He was being nosy, and quite rude, but he didn’t care. A large part of him wanted to know, so badly, what his mother had been working on for so long. How could she put all of her attention into this _thing_ , and not spend it with her kids? Trunks sniffed. Bulma was a good mom, but she was more interested in her work and her machines.

And Vegeta? Vegeta could barely be bothered to care half the time.

“Oh, Kami,” Trunks breathed when he found it. He ran his thumb across the messily scrawled Kanji, almost actually _praying_ that he had read it wrong. His eyes scanned over it again and again, his brain struggling to process.

“What is it?” Goten popped up by his shoulder, curiously peering at the paper. “ _Oh_.”

Bulma’s hastily scrawled words spoke of a time machine.  A powerful machine that would be able to bend the fabric of time and hop from universe to universe, from timeline to timeline. It wasn’t finished yet, not by any means, but it was close enough. Bulma even spoke of finding some people to be able to test it, but only if they were ready to risk being lost in space and time forever.

A chill ran down Trunks’ spine. He set the notebook down on the table, looking over at the ridiculous looking machine once more. Bulma had been logging long hours working on this thing. Why? What was this even for?

“Bulma _created that_?” Goten looked from the machine to Trunks’ stunned expression. “Does it even work?”

“She thinks so.” Forcing himself to recover, Trunks walked over to the machine and floated up into the air to get a birds eye view of it. He could see through the windshield, see the two chairs and the hatch to head into the undercarriage. There was a small refrigerator in the back, away from the part of the machine that opened. Finding the latch, Trunks popped the windshield open and dropped down inside.

Goten followed, his footsteps lighter than Trunks’ own. The younger half – breed was inspecting the dashboard, running his fingers along the buttons and gently touching the levers. “Some of this is Gohan’s work!” Goten grinned. “I helped him design this set up! Well, not really. He asked my opinion on where t’ put things ‘n I gave it!” He looked excited to see Gohan’s work in person. Goten wasn’t allowed near the labs, and he certainly wasn’t allowed near any of the machines that were a work in progress. He tended to be very accident – prone, and often would accidentally ruin something just by bumping into it.

Him being so gentle with the machine now told Trunks that he didn’t want to mess up the eldest half – breeds work. Goten was always looking for a chance to please Gohan and to show Gohan that he was growing up. He just wanted to help, Trunks knew. He wanted to be involved in their lives and he wanted to help Capsule Corp. grow, even if he was just a little kid.

“Trunks! What are you _doing_?” Bra yelled from the open door of the room, staring at both Trunks and Goten with wide, beautiful eyes. Both boys jumped, their eyes flashing with guilt. “I’m telling mom!”

“Bra, wait, no! I can explain!” Trunks cried, panic filling him. If Bulma knew that he and Goten had been in here, she’d punish him for _years_! He’d never see the light of day again, or his video games!

“Why do I want to hear it?” Bra stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “I’m telling mom, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

Trunks tried to think of something he could bribe her with, just so that she’d keep her mouth shut. It was going to have to be something _big_ , Trunks knew. Bra had nice tastes, and she wouldn’t go for just anything. She was pretty smart for a kid, and Trunks resented it every second he lived. He was going to have to grovel just to get her to keep this to herself. 

“Because I’m asking you to,” Trunks replied, careful to keep his voice even. “I’m asking you not to tell mom, and I’ll do _anything_ you want.” Their identical gazes met, one narrowed with anger and the other wide and pleading. Bra stared him down, her eyes revealing nothing to him. She was at that age where she was incredibly unpredictable. She could worm what she wanted from him, and then rat him out anyway after she got what was promised.

“ _Please_.” He repeated, not breaking eye – contact.

Bra stared at him for another moment, unblinking. Then her face scrunched up, and she glared at Trunks, her eyes cold. “I _hate you_! I’m not helping you lie to mom! You can get in trouble and get grounded for the rest of the decade and I wouldn’t even care, so to hell with you!” Bra stormed out of the room, slamming the lab door shut behind her.

The entire room trembled with the force of the door closing. The fragile machine wobbled unsteadily on its stilts, and Trunks, caught off – balance, was knocked into Goten. The younger half – breed reached out onto the dashboard for a grip, his arms and palms mashing button after button on the way down.

Before they knew it, the windshield began to close as an engine revved. Dust began gathering as the machine shook, it’s engine making wild noises that scared Trunks to his core. It was loud, so _loud_ he actually cupped his hands over his ears and curled up on the floor next to Goten. Goten was whimpering, his fingers curled into his hair. The young boy was clearly scared, and so was Trunks. He had to be the one to pull himself together to get this thing to _stop_!

Forcing himself to block out the noise, Trunks gripped the dashboard as tightly as he could and pushed himself to his feet, fighting for his balance as the machine rocked back and forth. He saw what he thought was a speedometer wavering wildly, jumping from year to year, unable to settle on one. Searching for the emergency brake, Trunks lunged towards it when he finally found it, yanking on it with all of his might.

He tugged, and tugged, and _tugged_ , but it refused to budge. The flip inside of him switched as he easily transitioned into a Super Saiyan, _forcing_ it to move. The lever slid one notch down, but wouldn’t move again. Bracing his feet against the dashboard, Trunks grunted and pulled as hard as he possibly could, his eyes flickering up to peer through the windshield as he yanked. Could there possibly be a button on the outside that would stop the machine from taking flight?

Through the clouds of dust and disturbed paper, Trunks’ gaze met with a pair of royal blue hues. Wide and terrified, surrounded by dark circles, royal blue hues. His heart sank in his stomach when he saw his mother, screaming for him to _stop_. She was scared, and she was running towards the time machine, but she didn’t make it in time.

The machine lifted into the air, causing Trunks to lose his balance. It spun three times before careening through the roof of Capsule Corp., blasting into the sky. Energy swelled throughout the machine as it encircled it, and then reduced it to the smallest particle. The machine disappeared into nothingness, taking Goten and Trunks with it.

* * *

“Trunks!” Bulma wailed, flinching at the sounds of the steel roof tiles clattering against the floor. Sunshine streamed in, and the spot where she had last seen her son and the time machine was shaking. “It wasn’t ready, it’s still unstable. Stupid boy! Why did he get _in it_?!”

“What happened?” Doctor Briefs came running into the room, Mrs. Briefs sliding on the floor behind him. Both were disturbed by the commotion and came to investigate. 

“My time machine!” Bulma cried. “Trunks and Goten were fooling around in it, and somehow they activated it! I don’t know where they went, or how they even got it to start.” She dropped her head into her hands, moaning in disbelief. “I thought they had more sense!”

“Oh, Bulma, boys will b’ boys.” Doctor Briefs sighed. “You need’a call Goku and ChiChi, just t’ tell them that their boy is gone.” 

Bulma wailed again. “Oh, ChiChi is going to _kill me_!” She sank down onto the floor, her bottom lip trembling. “How do I even go about getting them back? I have no idea where they went, where they landed, or if they’re even alive.”

“Would the Dragon Balls work, hunny?” Mrs. Briefs mused, placing her hand upon Bulma’s shoulder. Her hand squeezed gently, but Bulma took no comfort.

“I don’t even know if the dragon can reverse things like this. Would that be asking too much?” She shuddered, unable to bear the thought of Trunks being lost in space and time forever. Sure, she had been inattentive recently, locked up in her labs far too often and paying little attention to her children. Was this his way of getting back at her, breaking into her _private_ lab and fooling around with her machine? It _had_ to be an accident that the machine activated. It absolutely _had_ to.

Without even thinking, she pulled out her phone and dialed the Son house number, her heart throbbing with anticipation. Her father offered her a cigarette that she gratefully accepted, listening to the dial tone until ChiChi picked up. “Son residence,” ChiChi said in her gentle voice, “who is callin’?”

“ChiChi, it’s Bulma. I need you to get Gohan and Goku and come over, right now. It’s important.”

“What’s going on?” ChiChi’s voice grew panicked. “Is Goten okay? Is he safe? What happened t’ my baby?” The spew of questions just made Bulma’s head spin.

“I can’t explain over the phone. Please, just get here as soon as you can.”

It only took around twenty minutes for the Son’s to arrive. ChiChi was already crying and clutching a stoic Goku, whilst Gohan lingered in the background, his dark eyes filled with worry. Doctor Briefs greeted them and brought them inside to the ruined lab, where Bulma still sat on the floor, her eyes red from crying and a second cigarette clutched in her hand. Mrs. Briefs sat with her, rubbing her shoulders, whispering comforting words into her daughter’s ear.

“Bulma, what happened t’ my son?” ChiChi demanded, her bottom lip raw from where she’s bitten at it in her anxiety. Goku, standing beside her with his hands gently resting on her hips, wore a solemn expression. Bulma had a feeling that Goku already knew what she was going to say. She could tell just by the way he looked at her. His dark pools for eyes just _gleamed_ with the price of knowledge; sadness. As he grew older, he had seemed to develop a talent for reading people, and seemed to have the uncanny ability to read minds. Bulma didn’t like it one bit, but in this situation, his talent made it easier for her to explain.

Quietly, Bulma began explaining that she had been toying around with the idea of a time machine within the last few years or so, especially after Future Trunks headed back to where he had come from. How, gradually, she had begun to create her rough drafts of designs, then actually began building them when she was sure that they weren’t going to fall apart, and even got Gohan’s advice on her more serious blueprints and took some of his changes to heart. She told them about how she was about ready to start testing it, and send people to fixed points in time and give them explicit instructions on how and when to return. But, she left out the part where the time machine was so unstable still that it wasn’t guaranteed to work.

“Trunks was in a poor mood today, I don’t know why,” she rasped. “But, he lightened up when Goten got here. He said they were going to go up to his room to play video games, and I believed him. I can tell when the little brat is lying, and he wasn’t when he said that. I turned away to do more planning, and next thing I know, Bra is yelling, Trunks is yelling, and as I come up here, I see Trunks and Goten in my time machine and it’s _on_. It was gone before I could deactivate it.” She held her hand against her forehead, barely noticing how her fingers were shaking. “They went through the roof and disappeared. I have no idea where, or when, they went to. They’re _gone_.”

ChiChi stared at Bulma and Mrs. Briefs, her eyes wild with grief. “ _What?!_ ” ChiChi screeched, fury taking over her beautiful face. “Your son and my son did _what_? They’re _gone_?! _I can’t believe you let them get int’ this! You let them go off into time and space or whatever and now they’re gone! They’re not coming back ‘n it’s all it’s your fault!”_

“Chi,” Goku put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, looking at her in concern. “Calm down. I’m sure there’s somethin’ that Gohan might be able t’ figure out t’ get the boys back,” he soothed, but his eyes betrayed his worry. “Let’s go sit down ‘n get somethin’ t’ drink, ‘kay?” Gently, he steered ChiChi away, shushing her worries and her grieved remarks.

“She’s just angry, Bulma,” Gohan whispered. He wasn’t processing what had happened to the boys too well, evident by the way his hands clenched at his sides and the way his eyes were beginning to water. He was scared, and confused, and it was _all_ Bulma’s fault. “She’ll calm down in a week or so.” 

“I don’t think she’ll _ever_ forgive me. I lost _both_ of our sons. I’m to blame for this.” Bulma held her head in her hands again, fingers threaded in her hair. Her mother lit and handed her another cigarette, and Bulma immediately began puffing and taking long, soothing drags. She wasn’t a chain – smoker, not by any means, but she needed to relax; and drinking wasn’t the answer right now. Bulma needed her head to be clear so she could think of a way to get the boys back. That was going to be the only thing she had on her mind until she got them back.

Gohan came into the room finally, having been standing out in the hallway. He slid down onto the floor opposite of Bulma, his legs crossed and his brow furrowed. “I think I’ll be able to find a way to track it. I have the serial number, the model number, and the home base.” He scratched the side of his head, his brain thinking as fast as it could. “If I can track it, I can somehow figure out a way to be able to find out when and where they are, and then we could work on getting them back. But then again, that’s a lot of speculation, because this is a situation we haven’t ever dealt with before, and I’m not an expert in time travel. I don’t even think what I’m going to attempt to do is even possible, not by our standards of science.” The half – breed groaned. “If Future Trunks were here . . .”

“He’d go and get the boys without any hesitation.” Bulma finished for him, thinking of her son from the future. He had turned out so handsome, so good, but so troubled . . . She scrubbed her hands across her face, forcing her brain to work correctly. “If I can rebuild the time machine from my old schematics, we can go to Future Trunks in his timeline and get his help. He gave us his contact information when he left, right? Would that work?”

Gohan shook his head. “That would take too much time. You’ve been working on this for _years_. I don’t know how to say this right, but . . . I think Trunks and Goten need to figure out how to get back on their own. Trunks is a smart kid, and Goten has taken a lot of interest in what I do.  They might explore a bit before they get spooked and figure out how to get home.”

Bulma glared at the Son boy. “You don’t suggest that I leave my son in an unfamiliar place and leave him to fend for himself?” She asked in a shrill, harsh voice, guilt pricking her when Gohan winced. “I’m _not_ leaving him there, all by himself!”

“He has Goten,” Gohan reminded gently, but Bulma wasn’t listening.

“I just want my son back! I want to remind him of how stupid he is and hold him and maybe punch him in the head a bit!” She ashed her cigarette angrily. “Say, have you seen Vegeta anywhere? He needs to know that Trunks is gone.”

Gohan rose to his feet. “I think he’s in that gravity chamber, I’ll go fetch him. Do you want me to tell him?”

Bulma blinked. “He’ll _laugh_ at you. I’ll go, it should come from me.” She shuddered, just imagining the anger that would grip Vegeta. If she thought he had anger issues before, he was going to be _really_ angry when he hears of what she allowed their son to do.

She unsteadily got up, gripping the corner of a counter to prop herself up. Her mother was silent, her hands hovering near Bulma in case she lost her balance and fell. Gohan touched her arm reassuringly as she passed him. Bulma took the long way to the gravity chamber, avoiding the kitchen where Goku and ChiChi were still talking. She could hear ChiChi’s voice rising and falling, and Goku still reassuring her.

ChiChi had lost so much, so many times over. Goku twice, Gohan several times, and even Goten. She had lost her sons and her husband so many times that Bulma felt so, so guilty for this. For allowing this to happen under her roof. She and ChiChi barely got along as it was, how was the other woman going to forgive her this time?

Once she reached the gravity chamber, Bulma leaned on the buzzer, getting Vegeta’s attention before pressing the intercom button. “Get out of there, I need to talk to you.” 

Silence.

“Vegeta, I’m not fooling around; this is about Trunks.”

More silence. Clearly, he was ignoring her, and she wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

“Fine, if you’re not coming out, I’m coming _in_.”  

Typing the passcode into the door, she wrestled it open, forcing her way inside. Vegeta was standing in the middle of the room, arms folded across his chest and his face twisted into a dark scowl. His body was teeming with sweat, and his hair was soaked through. 

“What do you want, woman?” He growled, clearly not in the mood to give her a moment of his time to talk about their son. 

“I want to talk to you about what happened to Trunks.” She retorted, mimicking his stance without fail. He glowered at her, but she wasn’t intimidated. She had been around him long enough to know when to poke him, and when to back off. Bulma was too blinded by her grief for her son to even think about sweet – talking Vegeta. He would have to deal with her being callous.

“Why should I care about what happened to the little brat?” Vegeta snapped. “He doesn’t act like a prince, so why should I treat him like one? He doesn’t even want to train with me, to get stronger than Kakarot’s brat. He’s worthless as a son.”

“Don’t you _dare_ call Trunks worthless!” She yelled, losing her temper. “He’s gone and now I can’t do anything about it! Our son is _gone_ and he isn’t coming back!”

Something akin to surprise flooded Vegeta’s expression. “What. Happened.” He demanded flatly, as if her hysterics bothered him. They probably did. She wanted to punch his stupidly handsome face for how crudely he was treating her, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip began to wobble. Something in her expression must have prompted Vegeta to soften, for the next time he spoke, his voice almost was . . . tender. It was unfamiliar, coming from him. “Bulma, just tell me what happened.”

Once more, she launched into her explanation of what she had been working on and what had happened just an hour earlier. Vegeta’s expression changed to one of raw anger. He strode close to her, his hands furled into tight fists, glaring at her with more anger than she had ever seen on his face before.

“He _what_?” He asked, his dark gaze meeting hers. His black eyes were burning like coals. “That little brat is lost in a different timeline, and has no way of coming back?” Vegeta snorted, his arms folding over his bare chest once more. “Good thing he took Kakarot’s brat with him. Kakarot still has Gohan, and I still have Bra. It’s not over yet.”

“Is that _all_ you think about?” Bulma exploded. “Your rivalry with _Goku_? Our son is lost and there’s no way he can get him back! Does that not make you feel the _least_ bit upset, Vegeta? Or are you so selfish that you can’t see past it?” She took a deep breath, ignoring the surprise that flickered on his face. “You are just as much to blame for this as I am. I don’t even want you _around_ if you’re just going to comment about how you and Goku are even now. Stay in your stupid chamber and don’t even bother coming for dinner.” She turned sharply on her heel, yanking the door open and letting it slam shut behind her.

Defeated, Bulma leaned against the door, the heels of her palms pressing against her closed eyes and her body sagging. Her baby was _gone_ . . . and Vegeta was of no help, not that she expected him to be. He was going to be a pain in the ass about everything, and Bulma _wished_ she could be the selfish one and do nothing but work on her projects all day, just like Vegeta dedicated his days to training. But she wasn’t as selfish as Vegeta, and the most important thing to her was getting her son back.

She missed Trunks with every part of her body. That boy had changed her entire _life_. Was he going to change it once more by disappearing forever?

* * *

“Ack!”

Goten and Trunks knocked heads for the umpteenth time. Both boys were unable to get up, for the movement of the machine was far too fast. When they finally entered the designated time that the time machine was set to be in, the Capsule Corp. craft crashed unceremoniously to the ground, skidding on its side for several feet. 

It finally stopped, smoke rising from the side that had hit the ground head – on. Both boys lay on the curved windshield of the machine, pressed uncomfortably against the tempered glass. Goten was bleeding from a cut on the back of his head, and Trunks felt battered and bruised from the wild trip. His stomach was roiling, but he was glad that he didn’t vomit. No, that’d just be him embarrassing himself in front of Goten!

“Get off’a me, Goten,” Trunks muttered as he shoved Goten’s leg off of his torso, his chest feeling tight enough without the Son boys added weight. He managed to scramble to his feet, unsteadily balancing on the rounded windshield. There were a few dents and cracks in the glass, and multiple lights were flashing on the dashboard, but Trunks didn’t even know where to begin in order to get it working again.

Muttering, he found the latch to pop open the top again, hearing the gears whine when it couldn’t open all the way. It only opened a fraction, but it was enough for Trunks to wriggle his way out and flop on the grass below, lying on his belly with his head pressed against the dirt, groaning in exhaustion. Bra’s last words spoken to him echoed in his head. 

_I_ hate _you! I’m not helping you lie to mom! You can get in trouble and get grounded for the rest of the decade and I wouldn’t even care, so to hell with you!_

Did . . . did Bra really hate him? His heart twisted in his chest at the thought. _Stupid girl, why couldn’t she have just played along, even for a minute? Then Goten and I wouldn’t be in this stupid place, with no idea of how to get home!_  

“Trunks?” Goten called from inside the time machine. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Neither do I, Goten.” Trunks answered, his voice muffled.

“I wanna go _home_ ,” Goten whispered, but his voice carried enough for Trunks to hear him.

_Me too, Goten. Me too_.

Both Trunks and Goten must have fallen asleep in their respective areas, for once they woke, the sky was dusky and the air held a chill in it. Shivering, Trunks got to his feet and stretched, his stomach feeling more settled than it did before. 

“Goten, get up. We need to put this thing the right way.” He called, hoping to rouse the other half – breed from his sleep. Goten had never been easy to wake, and he certainly wouldn’t start being so now.

When he got no response, Trunks scoffed. “Goten, _get up_.” He kicked one of the stilt legs, smirking when he heard Goten groan from the inside. “Get up, or else you’re not getting any of the breakfast I find!”

_That_ got Goten out of his slumber. The young half – breed ducked through the small opening, floating down beside Trunks to examine the damage done.

“Huh,” Goten muttered, “this just is a mess, ain’t it?”

Trunks murmured his agreement. “Alright, so this is how we’re gonna do this. You get underneath it and push. I’m going to pull it upright, and once we got it standing, we can figure out what to do from there.” He rubbed his dirty fingers on his face, heaving a sigh. “I can’t believe we actually hijacked my mom’s time machine.”

“It’s a new adventure, though,” Goten pointed out. “Gohan got to go to different planets, and you and I get to travel through time! Isn’t it exciting?” Goten’s dark eyes glowed. “We get to explore this place ‘n then we can go home and tell everyone about what we did, what we saw!” His voice was lifted with excitement. “We get to do something different than everyone else!”

Trunks’ frown began to flip upwards into a grin. “You’re right! Now, help me put this right so we can get warm and settle in for the night.”

“Trunks?” Goten asked, his voice hesitant. “Can we eat after?”

It took them more than half an hour to be able to get the time machine put upright again. One of the stilt legs was damaged, so it kept trying to buckle underneath the weight of the machine. The glass windshield cracked even more whilst they were maneuvering it, and when they finally deemed that it was good enough to last them the rest of the night, they both clambered inside and forced the latch closed, effectively sealing in all warmth. The wind was enough to sway the machine every now and then, but Trunks had faith that the machine wouldn’t tip over.

Goten huddled in one of the chairs and shivered whilst Trunks hunted around the ground for the trapdoor that would lead to the undercarriage. Once he found it, he and Goten slid inside, surprised to find two soft, twin beds packed in there with a case of capsules (mostly vehicles and some emergency kits), a month’s supply of food, lots of water, and a small fireplace. Trunks had no _clue_ how his mother had managed to put together this little safe space, and keep it well away from the engine and all the wiring, but she did it.

Together, Trunks and Goten used their ki to light the fireplace, bringing even more warmth to the small space. They managed to find a few blankets and cuddled up on the two beds, lazily eating the food whilst talking idly amongst themselves.

“Trunks?” Goten broke their latest silence, peering at the older boy beneath his thick eyelashes.

“Yeah, Goten?”

“. . . Why are you so angry with your family?”

The question was innocent, Trunks knew, but it didn’t stop him from getting defensive. His first instinct was to snap at Goten and tell him to quit being nosy, but he didn’t. Instead, he shoved a huge spoonful of the dry rice in his mouth, chewing as he debated over his answer. Should he confide in Goten? The Son boy was his closest friend, and they told each other _everything_. He didn’t want to make Goten feel bad for having something that Trunks didn’t. He wasn’t even sure Goten would be able to _understand_ where he was even coming from.

“Well . . .” He set his bowl down on the floor, looking into the crackling flames as an excuse to distract himself. “I know having a lot of money is great ‘n all, I mean, I get to have anything and everything that I want, but sometimes it really isn’t worth it. I hardly see my mom anymore. She was around a _lot_ when Bra was born, but now she’s gone back to her machines and working for Capsule Corp., and hardly spends any time with us. Most nights she doesn’t even bother having dinner with us. 

“Vegeta, too, could hardly care. He trains himself into a slump each and every day, eats like a monster, showers, sleeps, and then repeats. He checks in on us every once in a while, just to see if we want to join him, and he gets pissy if we don’t. Says that I, _especially_ I, have to train the _hardest_ to hone my powers as a prince. He says that I have to live up to my legacy, whether I like it or not. If I don’t join him, he doesn’t speak to me for a week, and goes to great lengths to avoid me in the house. He takes it out on my mom and Bra, too. Snaps at them, pushes them around, and he begins fighting with mom all over again. She doesn’t blame me for Vegeta’s bad attitude, but, I can tell she gets pretty fed up with it often.

“Bra is a pain in my ass.” Trunks blinked away the tears that threatened to spill across his waterlines. Just thinking of his sister was enough to threaten his calm façade. She was a brat, but he loved her, and he wanted her love in return. “She’s always acting like my father. Snapping at me, refusing to get near me. Sometimes she randomly goes through spurts of affection but she treats me like I’m nothing more than a doormat for her and I’m _sick of it_. I wanted to be a big brother like Gohan, you know? I wanted to have a little sibling that looked up to me and respected me. But Bra and I get into horrible fights and don’t talk for days. Sometimes, on good days, she’ll sit and watch me play my video games or sometimes join in, but on others she doesn’t even look at me and pretends like I’m not there. Her head is so filled with the words of our father that she wants to be just like him, and I _don’t_.”

Trunks didn’t realize how fast and just how much he was speaking. He was spilling his _guts_ to Goten, and the younger half – breed was sitting there patiently, watching him with gentle, dark eyes. He looked so much like Gohan that it almost stunned Trunks into silence. The kid before him wasn’t the wily, annoying brat that questioned everything; it was a mini – Gohan in progress, listening with open ears and an open heart.

“I used to come over so much before because I felt like I had a family. Your mom, your dad and Gohan really treated me like family and it was . . . nice. I was hoping that when Bra came into the picture, our family would get to be like that, but instead it’s gotten worse. The only people who really care are my grandparents, but they work a lot, too. They, at least, make sure we get fed every night and that I do my homework. They treat us like family and I love them. But your house is like an escape for me, and I would love going over there. Wrestling with you and Gohan, fighting with you both like we’re all brothers, and your parents scolding us all like we were _all_ their sons.

“That’s why I’m mad at my family most of the time.” Trunks sagged, tired out by his explanation. “I just want their attention, and . . . I want Vegeta’s acceptance, and his love. I want my mom’s attention; I want her to be around. ‘N I want Bra to love me and let me be a big brother to her.” Trunks puffed, looking away from Goten. His cheeks were heating up with a flush that he knew wasn’t from the fire; it was the embarrassment of actually _saying that_.

He met Goten’s gaze finally, and found that the young half – breed wasn’t looking at him with any judgement. In fact, Goten was watching him with affection in his eyes.

“Trunks, you’ll always be my brother! Gohan is my bro – bro, but you’re my royal _big_ brother!” He smiled a big, toothy Goten grin that made him look ridiculous.

“You gotta promise that you won’t tell _anyone_ what I just said.” Trunks glared hotly at Goten. “It’s private!”

“Caaaaaaan I tell Gohan?” Goten asked, becoming excited at the prospect of talking to his brother.

“ _No_! No one, Goten!”

The two lapsed into silence after they spoke idly about other topics, mostly about Gohan’s girlfriend Videl, and some of their interests in common. Goten fell asleep first, sprawled out across his bed with his face buried in one of the pillows and the blanket draped around him. Trunks was curled up comfortably, the blanket covering every part of him but his head, his lavender locks splayed out against the soft pillow case.

The crackling of the fire soothed him enough to become drowsy. Eyes narrowed against the orange flames, he began to think, piecing together the day tomorrow.

He’d have to do repairs to the best of his ability upon the time machine, and then figure out just where they were. Maybe pop open one of those capsules and see what vehicles Bulma left in them. Goten would get hungry, and then they’d probably finish off the last of the food supply. Goten ate like his father, just as Gohan did. The Briefs had a little more self – control when it came to food, though not _much_ more. They’d have to explore around the area a bit, though from what Trunks had seen before, it was desolate. A green stretch of endless fields, with gentle peaks and rises forming in the distance. It was a pretty area, but it was empty. There would be nothing to find here.

He wanted to know how they were going to even manage to get home, too. Was there a button on this thing to _send_ it home? The time machine had launched from a home pad, and Trunks was pretty sure it needed a return pad to be able to make a trip between the two. Or was there some type of recall button that would bring it back to the last point travelled? Thinking of it was making his head hurt. Trunks wanted to be home, tucked up in his bed, knowing that Bra was sleeping a few doors down and that his mother was in her lab, sipping coffee and working on her strange machines.

Trunks didn’t know when he had drifted off. It must have been when the sun was beginning to rise, for their little safe space was growing lighter. He had spent all night worrying and fretting over their situation, not yet reveling in the freedom of the situation. There were too many unfinished things at back at home, too many things left unsaid.

Goten ended up rousing him. The younger half – breed had sat next to Trunks and shook his shoulder until the lavender haired prince finally woke, blinking sleep out of his eyes and listening to Goten complain about being hungry. They ate, Trunks managed to find some spare tools and parts that had evaded him the night before, and set off trying to fix what he could understand whilst Goten did stretches.

When Trunks called it quits, it was about noon. Goten was sprawled out in the grass, arms and legs all the way extended, staring up at the sky and watching the clouds move. Trunks joined him, wiping grease off on his shorts. It was warmer out during the day, so he had guessed that it had to be about early spring. They lay in silence for a long time, just soaking up the reality of the situation.

They were stuck here, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Goten asked, jackknifing into an upright position, eyes wide with confusion.

Trunks sat up to listen, sending his senses out across the surrounding area to be able to pick up on any energy nearby. “Hey, that energy feels like another Saiyan!” He leapt to his feet. He didn’t recognize it, but if there was another Saiyan on Earth, then how bad could they be? The more Saiyans, the better! “Wanna go investigate?”

Goten was frowning. “There’s a second energy, and it feels familiar . . .”

Sending out his senses again, Trunks picked up on the second energy. It was fluctuating with fear. It seemed to go along with the crying, and Trunks easily matched them together. “Someone is upset,” he observed. “Let’s go find out what’s going on and help! Maybe we can even show them our fusion,” he winked at the younger half – breed, who grinned with excitement. They hadn’t become Gotenks in a long time, so to fuse once more would be fun for them. Far more fun than time traveling!

Together, the two boys flew across the desolate area, following the two ki’s. Once they got close enough, they landed on the ground, careful to suppress their own energies as to not alert whomever was nearby that they were there. Lapsing into silence, they walked along, finding a good vantage point on a mountain nearby. They both lay down on their stomachs, peering over the edge to look at their surroundings. 

“Oh, that looks like one of the old pods mom has!” Trunks gaped, looking at a metal spacecraft in a deep crater. “It’s like the one that dad came here in.” He tried to look closer without inching off of the flat surface. “Why is there one here, of all places?”

“Hey, look!” Goten pointed at a figure that was coming closer. The crying grew to wails, which were growing ever louder. “We’re gonna get some answers!”

The Saiyan that came closer was decked out in armor, bands wrapped around his muscles and his boots coming up short on his ankles. His hair was long, going below his waist, and stuck out almost in every direction like a hedgehog. The Saiyan man had a green scouter on his face, and was muttering into it as he dragged a toddler in tow, shaking him every so often to get him to shut up and stop crying. Once he was near enough, he popped open the spacecraft, threw the kid inside of it, which only muffled the crying slightly. The Saiyan plopped down in the grass, exasperated, talking into his scouter much more rapidly now.

“Uh oh,” Trunks whispered. “I don’t think that this is going to turn out good for us.”

“How do you mean?” Goten asked, looking at Trunks with a curious gaze.

“A scouter is on that Saiyan’s face, so, I think he’s one of the bad guys that mom was telling me about.” Trunks stuck his tongue out. “That dude must have worked with my dad! What was his name? Radish? I can’t remember.” He examined the other Saiyan further, struggling to find to figure out what in the world that guy’s name was. His mom had told him several times before, told him the stories over and over again, and yet, somehow none of it stuck in his brain. “Man, I wish Gohan was here with us. He could tell us what’s going on.”

Goten’s expression was focused. He didn’t respond to Trunks. When his silence continued, broken only by the Saiyan’s sharp barks of commands and the muffled wailing, Trunks looked over at his friend, taking in his furrowed brow and his set jaw. Goten was staring at the pod, his mouth parting as a realization came to him.

“Gohan _is_ here with us.”

“ _What_?” Trunks looked around wildly for the eldest half – breed, disappointment dwelling within him once he didn’t see him. Gohan was so gentle, so wise. He always knew what to say and do, and he’d be able to get them out of this without fail. Gohan _always_ knew what to do.

“In that pod! That’s Gohan’s energy, I’d know it anywhere!” Goten pointed to the crashed spacecraft, where the child inside was still wailing. “It’s scared, and it’s jumping around, but it’s _Gohan_!” Goten’s charcoal hues gleamed with happiness. “That’s my brother!”

“But, Goten, if that’s a young Gohan, then we don’t exist here! Not yet!” Trunks pointed out. “I don’t even think my _dad_ is here yet!” Panic began to fill his voice. “We’re _way_ back!”

Finally, it sunk into Goten’s thick skin. The younger half – breed stared at Trunks before his eyes went wide, seemingly struggling to speak but unable to put his thoughts together. _He’s too young to be involved in something like this. He’s only twelve, the baby can’t handle this like I can. He’s so dense sometimes!_

Even though there was only a year difference between the two of them, Trunks had always been more mentally mature. Goten was a ditz, just like his father; he tended to be daft, and often didn’t understand half of the things that Trunks would explain to him, but he would get it after the fifth or sixth time of Trunks breaking it down for him. He was slower, and he had a real instinct for fighting, but he just . . . didn’t process like Trunks did. Trunks liked to think that it was because he was an intelligent kid, but he knew that it was all genetics. Goten was like his father, and Trunks was like his mother. He had her intelligence, her attitude, and her temper. She had always been mature, even when she was young; Trunks was the exact same way.

“Look, two more energies!” Goten drew Trunks’ attention to two figures flying towards the secluded area, and Trunks recognized their energies immediately. “That’s my dad!”

“And Piccolo is with him,” Trunks would know the Namek’s energy anywhere. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, suddenly knowing how this was going to go. “Goten, we should . . .”

Goten cut across Trunks as he trailed off. “My dad is here! My dad is here, and he’s going to save us!” He began wriggling in excitement, getting his clothes dirty with his movement. “My dad always comes to save the day; he always shows up just in time!”

“Goten, be _quiet_ ,” Trunks hissed. “Your voice is gonna carry, and then they’re gonna hear us! Do you want that to happen?”

The young half – breed shook his head and placed his hand over his mouth, clearly making an effort to remain quiet. Extending his senses so he could be able to hear better, Trunks leaned forward over the edge of the mountain, his fingers curling into the rocky cliff – face.

He could hear the Saiyan ( _Raditz_ , that’s who he was!), _laughing_ at Goku and Piccolo. The two warriors were gearing up for battle whilst Raditz watched them, sharp eyes examining their every movement, tail curled tightly around his waist. Trunks could just barely see the furry tip twitching. Goku and Piccolo were shedding some of their clothes, and Goku began stretching. Still, Raditz watched them, never taking his gaze off of the other Saiyan.

“I have a bad feeling ‘bout this,” Goten murmured, and Trunks could only agree.

They got into the fighting quickly. Piccolo and Goku were well timed together, despite being enemies, and fought in sync against Raditz. The other Saiyan was well trained enough to take them both on at once; always careful to split them up. Cast one off to the left field whilst keeping the other occupied with hand – to – hand combat. With a kick here, and a punch there, he’d let them regain themselves before they launched another attack.

It was brutal to watch. Trunks knew what Piccolo and Goku fought like now; they were intelligent, always on their guard and never letting the enemy get the upper hand. Raditz was playing with them here, and Trunks knew it. Goku and Piccolo had no idea, for they kept attacking, reckless and desperate to get rid of Raditz once and for all. Gradually, clothes were torn and fabric was left to float in the air. Piccolo lost his arm, and Goku was bleeding quite heavily from several different places. The two warriors were growing exhausted, whilst Raditz hardly had broken a sweat.

“Come on, dad, _come on_ ,” Goten was urging.

But, it wasn’t Goku that finally landed a mark on Raditz. It was _Gohan_. Whilst Raditz had had Goku pinned underneath his boot and was kicking him, again and again and _again_ , Gohan had broken free from his temporary prison. His energy had spiked dramatically, and he was rushing at Raditz so fast that he was a blur, even to the half – breeds eyes. Gohan’s hard head connected with Raditz’s chest, successfully knocking the full – blooded Saiyan back, far away from Goku.

“Jeez,” Trunks muttered, “Gohan has always had a lot of power, hasn’t he?”

“My brother is _strong_ ,” Goten proclaimed, his gaze fixated fiercely on his brother, whom was cowering as Raditz advanced.

“Hey, relax,” Trunks tried to soothe his friend. “We can’t go out there and help him, we have to stay here.” The truth was, they probably _could_ go down there and kick Raditz’s ass, but Trunks didn’t want to. He didn’t want to get involved, not if they didn’t have to. His mother had always told him that the other Trunks, the one from the future, had meddled and it had caused their entire timeline to change. She had always warned him not to make the same mistake, for he could change _everything_. “We know how this plays out, and once they’re all gone, we can figure that stupid machine out and go home.”

Goten was fidgeting, making distressed noises every few seconds. Trunks pressed as close as he could to Goten to offer some comfort, but he wasn’t sure it was helping. The youngest Son was upset, watching his father and his brother struggle against the full – blooded Saiyan.

“Just think,” Trunks urged, “They’re alive and well in the future; Goku is back, your brother is a genius, and _you_ exist. So, just keep thinking of that. Just keep thinking of how you’re here, too.”

_We must have just popped back in time a few years_ , Trunks thought as he watched Piccolo and Goku confer quietly. _That means if I can get the time machine working again, I can put in the right years and dates, and we can go back right to where we left off! And if we can do that, we can give it back to mom so she can fix it. Maybe she won’t be too mad, just relieved to have us back._

As they were watching, Goku grabbed Raditz, snugly holding him in place. Piccolo was managing with his arm, his energy crackling as he charged up for another attack. Piccolo’s energy was fluctuating wildly, rising and pooling into one spot; his fingers. Trunks could see the faint image of his attack, a soft, beautiful hue of purple, but it wasn’t an attack that he recognized. Piccolo didn’t make a habit of showing off his prowess, especially around him and Goten.

“Look away, Goten,” Trunks warned. He knew the outcome; Piccolo would kill both Raditz _and_ Goku with the attack. He didn’t want his friend to see it, to witness the tragedy that had taken place long before he was born.

Goten, as asked, buried his face in Trunks’ shoulder, his long, spiky wild hair tickling Trunks’ neck. He could feel Goten shaking like a leaf. He didn’t want his best friend to see his father die, not like this. Not by the hand of someone they know so, so well.

But, to Trunks’ surprise, it didn’t go like that at all. In fact, Raditz ripped free from Goku as soon as Piccolo released his attack, fleeing back several paces so that he was safely out of the blast. He remained untouched as the energy burst right through Goku’s chest, ripping open a fatal hole.

Stunned, Trunks could see Goku raise his hands, touching the gaping abyss in his chest before his legs gave out from underneath him. He crashed onto the ground, his blood beginning to pool around his limp body, eyes rolling wildly. Blood dribbled from his lips, and it wasn’t long before he grew still, his last breath leaving him for good. His reassuring, familiar ki wavered once, twice, and then went out for good.

Goku was dead. Piccolo had killed him, just as he always had wanted, and Raditz was still alive. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, no, no, no!

Taking advantage of Piccolo’s momentary surprise, Raditz appeared behind him, energy surrounding his fist as he thrust it through the Namek’s chest. The energy enveloped the Namek, tearing into him piece by piece. Piccolo cried out, but it was cut off as his body combusted from the force of Raditz’s attack.

Thick green liquid splattered the full – blooded Saiyan, but Raditz didn’t seem fazed. In fact, he wiped his hands and face clean and stalked over to where he had discarded Gohan. He kicked Goku’s body on the way, scoffing.

Trunks could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Frightened, he eased away from the edge of the mountain, forcing Goten along with him. Just as he had asked, Goten hadn’t seen a thing. That didn’t mean that he didn’t hear anything, though. Trunks was certain that Goten had the faintest idea of what was going on, that he knew that they had entered into something that was completely, and utterly, different than what they were told.

_No way, there’s no way! How did it get to be like this? Was it our presence that changed it? We didn’t interfere, so there was no way for that to have been the cause!_

“Goten, we have to get out of here,” Trunks whispered, not liking the silence of the desolate valley.

“But . . . Gohan, and my dad!”

Trunks closed his eyes. “There’s nothing we can do. We gotta get outta here before we’re next.” The half – breed tried, tugging on Goten’s arm. “We gotta find a way back _home_.”

Either Goten wasn’t listening, or he didn’t care. “I want to see what happens to Gohan.” Goten said firmly. “Let’s get closer,” he urged, wriggling free of Trunks’ grasp. He hopped over the edge of the mountain, giving Trunks no choice but to follow. Goten was keeping his power repressed, thankfully, but he wasn’t being careful. He was darting from covered area to covered area, spending too much time out in the open and risking being seen.

Following, with his stomach in knots, Trunks finally caught up with the Son boy. Goten was sitting behind a large slab of land jutting from the ground, in hearing distance of Raditz and Gohan. Trunks pressed his finger to his lips, because if they could hear Raditz, Raditz could hear them.

Thankfully, Goten nodded, still having enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

“The dumb idiot thought he was a human!” Raditz cackled, his voice echoing across the empty space. “He and this green man tried to kill me, but in the end, the green man killed Kakarot, and I killed the funny lookin’ one.” Silence, from the scouter and from Raditz. “. . . There was _one_ thing that we could use, though I don’t know how much of an asset this little mutt’ll be. Kakarot had a son, half – Saiyan, half – human. He’s got a lot of power dwelling underneath his skin, and I think we could really mold him into somethin’, if you think he’s worth it.”

There was an incoherent voice on the other end of the scouter, but Trunks could tell by the tone of it that it was his father. He’d always be able to tell Vegeta’s voice, no matter what.

“A year, you say? Can’t you and Nappa get your asses here a little faster?” Raditz snorted. “Fine. I’ll try and mold this mutt into something that’ll please you, once you arrive. Hopefully, he has enough Saiyan in him to make him into something great. If he doesn’t shape up in six months, I’ll kill him myself.”

Beside Trunks, Goten flinched.

“Get here as soon as you can. This planet has got a lot of potential, and we should reap it all while we can.” The scouter made a noise, and Raditz sighed. “What in the name of hell am I going to do with you?” There was a scuffing noise, and Gohan whimpered. “You best hope Vegeta likes you, mutt, or else you’re done for.”

* * *

After Raditz disappeared inside of his pod with Gohan, Trunks convinced Goten to head back to the time machine. Goten was quiet, very quiet, clearly shaken by what had just taken place. Trunks wanted to comfort him, but he couldn’t find the words, nor the motivation. So, they had walked together in silence, both processing the terrible reality of this timeline. If they weren’t in such a dangerous situation, Trunks knew Goten’s ki would be spiking with confusion and fear.

During their walk back to the time machine, Trunks had _thought_ he had seen a Capsule Corp. helicopter in the air, and thought he had felt his mother’s familiar energy. His heart ached. He missed her already, and wished he had been . . . nicer to her before they had hopped through time. He didn’t allow himself to think of his sister. Bra was a different story, and he didn’t want to feel that guilt.

Goten, unsurprisingly, was curled up in the bed that he had slept in last night. Trunks had left him in peace, instead choosing to make minor repairs to the time machine and attempt to fix it. He still hadn’t figured out why the emergency brake was stuck, but he did manage to find a recall button, and several other buttons that would get the damn thing to move.

The gauge that looked like a speedometer wasn’t a speedometer at all. It was some type of time tracker, and Trunks couldn’t figure out when and where they were. All that he could read off of it was that they were in a parallel universe, one of the many that his mother had spoken of when he was younger.

He tried pressing the recall button a few times, but nothing happened. Either the thing was out of juice, or that button just didn’t work. For a long time, he just sat with his head resting on his forearms, exhaustion weighing him down. He had no idea how to take himself and Goten home. They couldn’t find the Dragon Balls of this world and call the dragon, because Piccolo was dead, and that meant that Kami was, too. _And_ , they didn’t have a radar. Trunks could probably craft one out of spare parts, but it would take far too much time.

“Kami, I don’t know what to do,” Trunks muttered, slamming his hand down on the dashboard _very_ carefully, as to avoid any buttons. _What would mom do? What would mom do? What would mom do?_ He thought over and over again, looking out at the darkening sky with narrowed eyes.

Bulma would panic for a moment, bitch to whomever was listening, and then figure out what she was to do. She’d take a deep breath, assess the situation, and then act depending on how she saw fit.

_Mom, help me, I don’t know what I’m going to do_!

Staring at the speedometer – like gadget, it hit him. The realization was so sharp, that he must have been an _idiot_ not to have seen it! His mother would have had this all figured out within a moment, and put him to shame. How _dare_ he call himself the son of Bulma Briefs? His intelligence was nothing like hers!

Touching the buttons in front of the gauge, Trunks filled in what he presumed to be all the proper information, his slender fingers flying across the dashboard. He was so excited; he could hardly stand to breathe! They were going home! They were going to be home in no time!

Trunks couldn’t _wait_ to hear his mother yelling at him once more. Bra, too!

“Yer’ tappin’ woke me up!” Goten complained, his head poking up from the hole in the floor. His dark eyes were clouded with sleep. “Can’t you stand t’ keep it quiet?” His mountain – esque accent always poked through when Goten was first waking up, and he always sounded like his father. The same lilt to his voice, and the same clipped words. “I just wanna sleep.”

“You can sleep once we get home,” Trunks promised. “Do me a favor; charge this thing with your ki? It needs a bit of a boost if it’s going to launch us into the future!”

Goten looked at Trunks in confusion. “Wha’?”

“Just go outside to where the engine is, and spark it with your ki. It should get it going so we can get back to where we belong in the future.” Trunks explained, careful to keep his voice low in case Goten had a headache, like he often did when he was interrupted from a nap. “Then get back in here, and we can get home, and pretend like this never happened.”

Thankfully, Goten did as he was asked without protesting. Trunks popped open the windshield and stuck his head out to watch as Goten placed his hands where Trunks presumed the engine was (really, he was guessing, but he was _really_ sure that he was right), and just watched as his hands began to glow. Ducking his head back inside, Trunks began fiddling with a few levers, adjusting the levels of the time machine and rerouting the power. Lights began flickering on, and the time machine began to hum, which Trunks presumed was a good thing.

_This thing is actually easy to use, when it’s used_ properly _. We just fucked it up before, thanks to Bra._ He thought as he called Goten back inside, making sure that they were both strapped in this time. He didn’t want a repeat episode of them knocking their heads on the damn windshield when this thing took off. Goten’s head was still raw, even though his wound had mostly healed, Trunks still caught him rubbing where the wound was, as if it were still bothering him.

“Ready?” Trunks asked, pulling one more lever. His hand rested on the emergency brake, just in case he had been wrong. He _hoped_ he wasn’t wrong, because it would fucking _suck_ if they were to be stuck here, in this ridiculous timeline with nowhere else to go.

“Ready.” Goten confirmed, still uncharacteristically somber. Hopefully when they got back to their timeline, Goten would perk up again and become that silly, dumb baby that Trunks grew up with.

“Well, let’s see how this goes,” Trunks muttered, not intending for Goten to hear as he pressed the biggest button on the dashboard, eyes closing tightly as the time machine began to shake, and then sling – shotted forward into the ripples of time.

**Author's Note:**

> also as i was writing goku's death i was crying bc i could only imagine tfs & how they did it 
> 
> also pls ignore how shitty that whole part is bc im rewatching db through dbs and i'm only on s2 of db : (


End file.
